A/N: Wow, I just...sorry. I guess I don't really have an excuse other than a lack of inspiration, but here ya go. To make up for it, I've included a bit of smut. Because smut fixes everything, right? -coughs- Anyway, if I don't have anymore readership for this, it's my own daggone fault. I was originally going to include a third scene, but I decided I'd kept you guys waiting long enough. I can always add it into future chapters.

CH 2: A Force to be Reckoned With

With an unladylike yawn, Harleen stood in front of her full-length mirror and stretched. Still bedecked in her silk black nightie, she finally appraised her face and grimaced. "Girl, we have got a lot of work to do..."

As she reached for her concealer and foundation, Tate's "loneliness" speech came to mind, and she subconsciously bristled. Did her vanity reflect her desire for companionship?

"Gee, I dunno, Harls, aren't you supposed to be the doctor?" she quipped aloud, only to groan when she realized what she'd done. "Great, now I'm talking to myself...always a comforting sign."

After finishing her foundation, the blonde added some mascara before pausing mid-stroke.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

What the hell was that?

Irritably re-capping her make-up, Harleen placed it onto her dresser and paused to listen once more.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Ok, so now it was getting closer...

Instinctively diving for her purse, she unearthed a small handgun she always kept for protection. As she held the cold weapon within her grasp, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'Get it together, Harls...this is an old house, so it's bound to make creepy noises.'

Creeeeeak.

With a cry, Harleen turned and blindly fired a shot smack-dab into the door's molding.

A masculine cry mirrored hers before a frantic, "Don't shoot!" directly followed.

Blinking in bewilderment, Harleen shakily lowered her firearm and beheld a tall, dark-haired man, his hands raised in surrender as he gave a weak smile.

"Hi, uh...is everything meeting to your liking so far? I've already been shot at twice today, so I guess we're off to a good start," he gibed. When Harleen only stared at him in mute horror, he cautiously greeted, "I'm Dr. Ben Harmon, the man who lives here... I'd like to think you didn't try to kill me on purpose just now, but lately I've been on every woman's shit list."

"Ben Harmon?" she asked, now lowering her firearm and taking a step back. "Oh God, I am so sorry - I must look like a complete spaz!"

Ben gave a small smile. "Not any more than my wife, I assure you. I actually just got back from the hospital."

"Yeah, so I heard... How's the baby?"

Ben quirked a brow. "What? Oh no, no, I just got back from the mental hospital. Vivien had a nervous breakdown and needed to be checked in ASAP."

Finally noticing the bandage on his temple, Harleen placed a hand over her heart and winced. The bullet wound was obviously caused by grazing the skin, for otherwise he'd be deader than her job at Arkham.

Clearing his throat, Ben shrugged and explained, "I know it looks bad that I didn't try and take care of her, but her mental state's officially too much for me to handle on my own. She's a danger to herself and our family."

"Personally, I think you should worry more about Tate," Harleen confessed. "I mean, I know I haven't met your wife yet, but your daughter's dating a mentally disturbed kid."

Ben frowned. "Believe me, I've tried keeping them apart. Tate has a big knack for getting in this house uninvited. Speaking of which, I assume you're getting ready for your second session?"

"I was before you came, yeah," Harleen admitted, coloring once she realized she was still in her nightie. Hurriedly exchanging her gun for her robe, she slipped her arms into the garment and turned back with a sigh. "I guess I'd better finish getting ready now. And, uh...sorry about the damage to your door. I promise I'll pay for it."

Ben smiled wryly. "Maybe you can replace my pants, too? I just about pissed myself when you shot off that gun."

Realizing that Ben was joking, Harleen laughed and nodded. "Yeah, sure, although I doubt I'd be too good at picking out men's clothing. It'd probably have frills and bells on the trim." Now moving to close the door, the blonde shut Ben's smiling face from sight and pressed her forehead to the wood.

Holy shit. It'd been less than twenty-four hours at the Harmon household, and she'd already nearly shot and killed someone... Couldn't she go anywhere without leaving a fine line of destruction in her wake?

Shrugging it off, Harleen slowly turned from the door and prepared for her second round with Tate Langdon.

"You're late, doctor."

"And you're awfully observant this morning," Harleen teased. Setting her armload of supplies onto the coffee table, she caught her breath and heavily plopped into her chair. "I'm really sorry about being behind schedule, but I had a run-in with your former doctor this morning. He's a very nice man, so you must've done a real number on him to make him pass up your case."

Tate shrugged. "He feels guilty for failing Violet as a father, so he's trying to make up for it by suddenly being forceful and overbearing. I can guarantee it won't work - Violet and I belong together."

"Young people always say things like that, but you'll change your mind," Harleen insisted. "I hate to be all anti-true love here, but you need to realize that romance isn't always all it's cracked up to be."

Tate smirked. "And you need to realize that not everyone shares your shitty experiences with love. Seriously, doctor, you shouldn't let your personal feelings interfere so much with my case."

Harleen opened her mouth to speak, then instantly closed it. She honestly couldn't believe she'd let Tate get to her again, but here he was, smug and nonchalant while she sat there sweating bullets. Smarmy little prick. She needed to get it together, or else she'd botch yet another case.

Irritably brushing the hair back from her eyes, she coolly returned, "I'm just trying to help you, Tate. Most kids your age don't understand the meaning of love, so I just figured I'd just give you a heads up."

He smirked. "I think I can take care of myself, doctor. I'm a lot more worldly than you know."

Harleen mirrored his expression of ridicule, for she obviously didn't believe him. Tate was a kid, not an expert on the world - if he was so damned intellectual, he wouldn't be seeking help from a psychologist.

Deciding to move on, she opened the box on the table and took out some paper, crayons, markers, and finger paints. Holding out the paper to her patient, she explained, "I'd like for you to draw me the one person who upsets you most. The key of this exercise is to get to the root of all your frustrations, so it's important that you're completely truthful with what you create."

Tate stared down at the paper in disdain, but to Harleen's surprise (and pleasure), he grabbed a few crayons and began to draw.

"So tell me, doctor, are you wearing any undergarments today? I want to make this as accurate as possible..."

Face paling, Harleen lost her composure and choked out, "Why you smug little-"

"Shh-shh, there's no need to shout," Tate assured her, but, insolent little twerp that he was, he was grinning from ear-to-ear. "If anything, I've just paid you a compliment. Despite your grating urge to fix me, I find you very attractive."

Harleen's mouth dropped open, and she did very little to conceal her comical expression of shock. "I...I... Ok, listen to me, kid, I think you're a touch off in the head..."

"Why, not at all," Tate blithely assured her. "In fact, I'd say my head's functioning just perfectly. ...The one that matters most in this type of situation, of course." Now rising with a dark and feral glint to his eyes, he moved toward her without bothering to hide the obvious arousal tenting his pants.

Oh, God...it was happening again! She'd be damned if she lost another case due to hormones!

Desperate to get back on track, she quickly announced, "Look, kid, you're real cute and all, but you're meant for someone far younger than-"

"I want to make you come, doctor."

Breathless by this revelation, Harleen curled her toes and whimpered when a deep, ache-filled throbbing began to pulsate from her very core. In moments she was wet, and her mind mentally cursed how when it came to seduction tactics, she and this kid were unrivaled equals.

Subconsciously, Harleen parted her knees and watched as Tate's dark, lascivious gaze traveled down to greedily take in the sight. He gave a moan, and then he was...oh God, he was touching himself through his pants, and as he closed his eyes in aroused rapture, she knew that she needed to get out of there before things escalated.

Scrambling for the door, Harleen gave a cry when she tripped over the coffee table and sprawled to the carpet. She was now the perfect picture of surrender, what with her ass being turned up toward Tate's amused gaze, and as she frantically tried to rise back up to her knees, the teen immediately wedged himself behind her so that she couldn't move.

"Tate, please..." she choked out, only to flush when he gave a raspy laugh against her ear.

"Please what, doctor? Perhaps you want me to finger-fuck you to orgasm?" he purred, now biting on the soft hollow of her neck as he slowly, torturously began to raise the fabric of her skirt and pull down her panties. The sensation of his clothed manhood pressing against her folds made her gasp, her body jolting onto her forearms as he gave a brutal thrust of the hips.

"Come for me, doctor," he urged, licking the shell of her ear as his hand slipped between them.

Harleen was both nauseated and thrilled by such talk, and as his fingers traced along her stimulated flesh, she tried her best not to greedily rock into him. For this she was rewarded, and she gave a long, drawn-out cry when Tate's middle finger plunged into her moist center. He rotated the appendage and pressed his thumb to her clit, his breath hot against her neck as he began to roughly, mercilessly dry hump her amidst his administrations.

She could feel his clothed manhood reaming into her in time to his probing fingers, and just when Harleen thought she was about to come undone, it all...stopped?

Bewildered, Harleen lifted her head and gasped when she realized she was alone. How the hell was that even possible? It had been so real!

Sticky and embarrassed, Harleen tugged her clothing back into place and sat up with wide, unblinking eyes. That was the last straw - no more erotic novels before bedtime!

A/N: At this point, Violet has Tate's heart, and Harleen has his sexual interest. And although some may find the pairing creepy, I honestly don't since he died in the 90's, and because of this, they'd technically be around the same age.